


Little Lion's Troubles

by mosslover



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, guilty feelings, kind neighbors, single mother Dís
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/pseuds/mosslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili takes his job of watching his little brother seriously, but it can be a perilous task, especially since that brother is Kíli. Even crafting a surprise for their mother can have unforeseen consequences, though not all of those turn out as bad as Fíli expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Troubles With Daylilies

**Author's Note:**

> A little, mostly fluffy idea full of Durin family feels that insisted on getting written. There will be a second chapter to this, hopefully soon :D

_Snip, snip -_

Fili hovers, following the progress of scissors through green paper like a hawk. Kili had insisted on cutting out the shape himself, and momma always lets him do as much on his own as possible, so Fili thinks he should follow her example; as long as he keeps a close eye on his little brother, it’ll be fine, he tells himself. 

Kili is concentrating hard, holding the paper almost too tightly, staring down at his work with the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth. A strand or two of hair cascades down the front of his face as he leans lower over their craft.

Fili reaches out to tuck the hair away so the younger one can see what he is doing, but Kili must have not expected it because he jerks in surprise at the touch and then yelps like a stepped-on kitten.

“Ow!”

He drops the scissors and when Fili looks down in shock, there’s a tiny cut on his brother’s thumb, a dark drop of blood beading next to the round fingernail. Horrified, the blond takes his brother’s warm hand into his to take a closer look. The mostly cut-out leaf and stem shapes fall from their grasp, landing among the other debris from their creative efforts.

_I shouldn’t have let him use the scissors, momma’s not going to be happy,_ goes through Fili’s mind. He expects Kili to start crying, or at least to moan, but Kili stares at the drop in fascination. “Fee, that’s my blood! That’s so cool!”

Fili bites his lip. “Um, yes. But-”

“That means I can get a bandaid! Let’s get a bandaid!”

He rushes out of the living room and down the dark hallway to their tiny bathroom, and Fili runs after him so the younger boy doesn’t have to climb up onto the sink to get to the medicine cabinet. He helps him pick an orange band aid and drapes it over the tip of his finger. Luckily that one little droplet was all that the wound cared to produce, and that calms Fili’s rushing heart a little. Momma’s trusted him to keep an eye on Kili for a little while, and he really wants to do a good job; she’s always so busy with her orders and taking care of the two of them, and he doesn’t want to add another worry to her list.

In Kili’s world, there are no worries right now. A band aid is an exciting event, an experience point to be proud of, so much that the pain doesn’t even register with him. As soon as it is in place, he looks up, pushing scraggly hair out of his face: “Let’s go finish! Can I use the glue?”

Wondering if that will lead to another mini-emergency, Fili nods. It isn’t very likely that the glue stick would cause a serious mishap, though with Kili’s unbridled enthusiasm and a certain degree of clumsiness combined, one can never guess the result. Maybe they should have stuck to reading a book, but it’s Mother’s Day, and…

The rest of the leaf is cut out with no further injuries, and although gluing gets messy in Kili’s little hands, nothing gets stuck together that shouldn’t be. Next step is writing the message inside, and Fili lets Kili go first, dictating the spelling to him as the little brunet painstakingly shapes each letter. They are still new to him, though he’s a fast and happy learner, especially when it comes to skills that Fili already mastered. 

He works through each and every letter until he has composed the whole of “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY”. The S is backwards and the Ys stand on one long rickety leg each, but Kili is thrilled with the result. 

“Now you write something!” he says, and Fili adds a little, neatly written sentence of “You are the most wonderful mom under the sun, we love you.” 

“Let me sign it!” Kili is eager to continue, and Fili has to hold back both a smile and an urge to correct his brother when he notices that his name is expanding in the wrong direction. Instead of ‘KILI’, the signature says ‘ILIK’ - maybe after concentrating for so long, the brunet seems to suffer a momentary relapse back to his first writing attempts when he regularly wrote backwards. And while he wants the card to be all neat and right, Fili thinks it will make their mom smile a bit more when she sees a reminder of a smaller Kili from a year or so ago, a Kili who could barely hold the pencil right but who was determined to master this mysterious complicated thing called alphabet.

Fili adds his signature and closes the card so they both inspect their creation with solemn expressions. It’s not perfect - the red flower sits a little crookedly on its stem and there are parts where the glue got a bit out of hand, but overall, it’s not bad…

“Do you think mom will like it?” Kili worries, looking up at Fili with his big eyes.

“I’m sure she will,” Fili assures him, sweeping the paper cuttings into the palm of his hand. “I just wish we could get her some real flowers…”

Kili’s eyebrows draw together as he ponders that, and then suddenly his face clears, eyebrows shooting up and hazel eyes stretching wide. “I know where we can get some!”

And just like that, he torpedoes to the front door, throwing it open and running across the front porch and down the creaky wooden steps. Fili drops the cuttings and dashes after him in a new bout of near-panic. What is Kili thinking? Where does he think he can find-

Out in the bright afternoon, it takes him no time to spy a mop of brown hair speeding past the bushes in front of their house towards their neighbor’s yard, which is when Fili realizes what Kili’s idea was. “Kee, no!” he yells, but he’s too late even though he goes full speed, blond locks flying as he rushes to catch up. “Kili, you can’t!”

Kili is already on his knees next to the clumps of yellow flowers blooming in Mr. Fundin’s meticulously kept yard and he’s managed to break off one stem with a blossom. He turns around, confused, the flower in his hand.

“Kili, no, these aren’t ours-”

“But - they’re right here next to the sidewalk -” Kili is all terrified innocence, the incriminating evidence in his hand, and as luck would have it, at that moment the door of the yellow and red house opens and Mr. Fundin steps out with a stash of boxes and papers, heading out to his recycling bin.

He doesn’t look scary, not really; he’s short and stocky, with white flooffy hair on top of his head and a long white beard that curves up at the ends. He looks more like a fairytale grandpa, but Fili knows looks can be deceiving. They haven’t spoken to Mr. Fundin much at all, and maybe his flowers are his pride and -

Fili’s heart rockets ahead and his mouth dries out. Now they’d really done it, and momma is going to be so embarrassed. They are still quite new to the neighborhood, and having moved in this winter, they haven’t met a lot of their neighbors yet. He hopes that they won’t get a reputation of bad boys for this, he really should have reacted faster to Kili’s sudden dashing out, but he hadn’t expected it… Maybe momma shouldn’t have trusted him to keep an eye on Kili after all.

“Hi there!” Mr. Fundin calls out to them, stopping on the way to his bin. “Are you boys admiring my daylilies?”

“Hi, Mr. Fundin,” Fili says, thinking frantically what to say. “I’m sorry, we -”

“Fili said it’d be nice to have flowers for our mum for Mother’s Day,” Kili answers in his clear, earnest voice. “But we don’t have any money, and I thought maybe these flowers were sort of everyone’s, but Fili says they’re yours, I hope you don’t-”

“Kili,” Fili groans, not sure if he should take his brother’s hand and drag him back home to hide, or apologize profusely and hope Mr. Fundin wouldn’t yell at them. His heart beats like a trapped bird as he watches the white haired man deposit his trash in the green plastic can, let the lid drop with a smack and then head over to them. 

“Well, technically, those flowers are on my lawn,” Mr. Fundin says, inclining his head as if thinking, “but I can see that’s an easy mistake to make, with them being so close to where everyone walks.” 

Kili’s twirling the flower in his hand nervously, looking down at it and back up at the old man, courage leaving him with every step their neighbor draws closer. But the white-haired man doesn’t sound angry - not yet, anyway. Still, Fili wraps a hand around Kili’s arm and pulls him closer, to reassure them both. He hopes mama doesn’t return right at this moment, though she can’t be much longer now; she was only going to be gone for an hour.

“I’m sorry,” Kili deflates. “I - I guess I can’t return it now, and we can’t pay for it, I just thought -”

Mr. Fundin smiles and stops next to the flowerbed. “It’s Mother’s Day, you say?” he asks, surveying the boys with calm eyes set beneath two bushy eyebrows that are two shades darker than his hair and beard. “Hmm.” He seems to be entertaining some thought, and Fili starts to sweat at the idea of possible punishment, or maybe some kind of reimbursement they will owe; they don’t have much, and mama would not be pleased... 

“Well, you’re right, Kili,” Mr. Fundin finally says, “this flower can’t be returned to the others. They grew out nicely this spring, haven’t they? Lots of blooms, though they don’t last very long, just one day, hence their name. Doesn’t make them the best flowers for gifting, even if they are quite pretty.” He turns to Fili. “You’re Fili, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Fundin,” the blond says, a tad reluctantly. He was supposed to be in charge, keep an eye on his brother, and he’s botched it. Now Mr. Fundin will probably have a word with their mother. He’s relieved it didn’t go straight to yelling, but maybe he’s the kind of person who gives you a lesson by explaining what you did wrong, calmly, yet in a way that leaves you feeling bad about your misdeed for days. He chews on his lip, awaiting the fall of the hammer. 

Mr. Fundin just nods. “I see. I haven’t seen you boys much yet, it’s been cold, and then we had all this rain… hard to play outside, isn’t it?” He doesn’t wait for the boys to nod, he just continues. “Well, tell you what, boys. I like that you are trying to do something nice for your mother, that’s a very sweet thought. And I don’t mind if you take a few flowers, but really aren’t the best for the job… I have nicer flowers in the back, if you want to come take a look?”

Excitement positively vibrates under Kili’s skin where Fili is holding his arm, and Fili is quite surprised by the kindness himself - but then he remembers something their mom had repeated to them many times, and he shakes his head regretfully. “We - we can’t. Mom said we shouldn’t go anywhere with people we don’t really know.” He flushes, wondering if Mr. Fundin will get angry now, with Fili displaying obvious mistrust towards him and refusing his generous offer. With baited breath, he watches the older man’s face, prepared to hold his ground and protect Kili, who squirms next to him and looks up at him with what Fili is sure are disappointed eyes.

Mr. Fundin smiles, though. “That’s understandable, young Fili. Alright, in that case, I’m afraid daylilies will have to do for now…” He bends over and plucks four more, then hands them to Kili. “I hope your mother likes them.”

“Th-thank you,” Kili stammers, a little confused but joyful at the growing bouquet in his hands. Fili adds his own gratitude and then they turn to leave, a little dazed, Mr. Fundin watching them and waving when they reach their steps. To Fili’s relief, they have just enough time to clean up their supplies and paper clippings and place the card on the table, along with the daylilies arranged in a tall glass of water. Hardly ten seconds later, they hear their mother’s footsteps climb onto the porch. She’s just about to open the door when a voice calls out to her across the yard.

“Mrs. Durin!” 

Fili blanches; it’s Mr. Fundin again. He and Kili exchange a nervous look as they hear their mother pause and reply: “Mr. Fundin! How are you?”

“Fine, fine,” the man says, and they can hear him ascend the steps to the house as well. He must have seen her return, and now he’s coming up... 

“I had a little visit from your boys just a little while ago. Fine lads, they are,” they hear him say.

The astonishment in their mother’s voice is laced with unmistakable suspicion. “You did? I’m - I hope they didn’t break anything - I was out just to deliver something to a customer, but if they got into any trouble with you, please let me know how to-”

“No, no no no,” Mr. Fundin assures her vehemently. “There was no trouble at all. I’m sure they will tell you themselves - nothing happened. Like I said, they are nice, thoughtful lads.”

“Fili, Kili?” Their mother opens the door, peeking inside the kitchen, and when she sees their slightly stricken faces, her dark eyebrows draw a little closer together. “What were you two up to? I hope Mr. Fundin is not being too kind about your supposed visit?”

Fili opens his mouth to explain, but Kili blurts out: “It’s my fault, ma, I shouldn’t have taken the daylies - um, daylilies - from Mr. Fundin’s yard, I thought they were everyone’s, and I said I was sorry, and he said we could keep them, and then he said we could get different flowers from his backyard, that last longer, but Fili said no, because we’re not supposed to go with strangers, so we didn’t, but we made you a card, too. Look!”

He says it all in one breath, and Fili blushes as his mother tries to absorb the flood of words and make sense of it. Meanwhile Mr. Fundin behind her looks like he is very much trying not to laugh; Kili is holding out the card they made and his mom just looks him up and down with the same hazel eyes as the younger boy’s.

Which is when Fili realizes that his brother’s jeans have grass and dirt stains on his knees where he had knelt next to the neighbor’s flowerbed. He hasn’t noticed until now, but he’s sure momma won’t miss it.

She, however, narrows her eyes at something else. “Is that a bandaid on your finger, Kili?”

The little brunet forgets the card for a moment and gets even more thrilled. “Yes! I snipped my finger when we were cutting out the paper for the card! Fili helped me put it on!”

And Fili just wants the scratched up linoleum under his feet to swallow him.

“Sorry, mum,” he says, barely getting the words out of his mouth. He’s sure he’s lost her trust now, with all that’s happened. She won’t be able to leave them here alone again for a while, even though he should know better at his age…

Mrs. Durin smiles distractedly as she turns back to Mr. Fundin, whose face is a little more composed now. “It looks like things got a little bit wild here. I leave the boys alone from time to time when I deliver my finished orders, but only if it’s not very far. Fili’s ten now, and they do well on their own, just sometimes… you know little boys… I’m sorry about your flowers though, and I hope the boys apologized for presuming…”

Mr. Fundin waves his hand, short and chubby-fingered. “I promise, there was no harm done. I grew up watching a younger brother of my own, I assure you I know about the kinds of things boys can come up with, but they had good intentions... “ He smiles at both the boys, then nods towards his house. “I’m retired and I’m home most of the time, so if you ever want me to keep an eye on-”

“Retired? What’s that mean?” Kili interrupts, walking up to the door, more bold now since no one seems to be angry. “Is that because you are old?”

“Kili,” his mother admonishes him, but Mr. Fundin laughs. 

“Oh yes, yes indeed. I’m old, so I’m retired - it means I don’t work anymore, I stay at home and tend the yard and read lots of books.”

“Books! I like books!” Kili bounces on his feet. “Fili reads to me - well, when he’s not at school. I will go to school soon and I’ll learn to read, and then I can read to Fili too!”

“That’s a great plan,” Mr. Fundin nods sagely. “And what kind of books do you like?”

“I like adventures, and dragons, and all kinds of heroes. They always seem in so much trouble but then they somehow make it out alive, and it’s so much fun!”

“I love books about heroes too. And you?” Mr. Fundin looks at Fili who has stayed behind by the table, still unsure about how much trouble he is in. 

“I-” Fili hesitates. “I like heroes and dragons as well.” It seems like the safe answer. But then he adds: “And I like books about mountains, and people who climb them.” He’d gotten a book like that from uncle Thorin last year for his birthday, and he’d read it four times since then. Usually when Kili was sleep, because he thought it was boring.

“You have smart boys, Mrs. Durin.” There’s a spark in Mr. Fundin’s eyes, making him look younger, more approachable. “Like I said, if you ever need me to keep an extra eye on them, or if they ever need anything while you’re out, my house is always open.”

Their mother’s smile is a bit pained. “That’s very lovely of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t, and the boys wouldn’t either. It gets too quiet in the house, they’d be a welcome distraction. And they can peruse my books and borrow whatever they want.”

Kili looks up at their mother, probably already thinking of all the adventures to be discovered. “Momma? Can we? Please?”

She smiles. “It would be a huge relief to know they have somewhere - someone to go to when I have to leave for a little while. But they can be loud, and this one-” she puts a hand on top of Kili’s head, “-gets excited very easily…”

“Just send them over, we’ll find a way to stay busy.” Mr. Fundin waves it off again, looking around the porch. “It’s been a tough winter, hasn’t it? So cold and so much snow - I see your porch has suffered just as much as mine has - and these columns - it’s impossible to keep up with it all…”

“Oh, I know, these stairs are about to crumble,” their mother sighs. “They weren’t in the best shape when we bought the house, and I keep planning on having someone come do the repairs, but the boys always need something, they grow so fast… My brother would help fix it, but he travels to find work and he’s hardly ever here. And I don’t have to the tools to do it myself…” 

She sounds wistful - Fili hates when his mother sounds wistful. He wishes she would never have to sound like that again, because there is pain hidden in her voice, pain that was never there when their da was alive. Since then, he knows his momma has struggled, that even with uncle Thorin’s help they are just scraping by. He wants to hug her, soothe her, tell her he’ll be soon old enough to do his share - if he can learn to be more responsible than perhaps today, so she can really rely on him. 

Mr. Fundin nods, understanding flickering in his little eyes. “It’s not easy, no. Tell you what, my brother’s a bit of a handyman, and he helps me fix things when something goes wrong around my house - it can be so expensive to hire a repairman to do the job! I’ll send Dwalin over next weekend, he’s coming to help me in the garage andhe can do a bit of work on your steps so you don’t have to worry they will fall out from under you.”

Fili’s eyes go back to his mother - she’s surprised to say the least, and touched. “Oh, I - that’s so very kind, but you don’t have to trouble him, I’m sure he has enough to do without fixing some stranger’s porch…”

“Oh, he wouldn’t mind, and he’s fast, believe me. It will take him hardly any time.” Mr. Fundin assures her. “I’d help too if I could, but I’m afraid I was born with two left thumbs…” He laughs, then straightens up. “Well. I’ve taken enough of your time, I’m sure you have lots to do. I’ll send my brother over next Saturday - he’s a tall fella with a beard almost as big as mine - so don’t be surprised. Take care of your mum now, boys!”

They barely have time to say goodbye and thank him before he’s well on the way to his house, moving at a surprisingly brisk pace: it’s as if he wants to prevent them from rejecting his help. 

Their mother closes the door, and finally takes the card from Kili. “Let me look at this - what a nice surprise from you two.” 

Her voice sounds a little moist all of a sudden. She studies the flower, then opens the card, Kili beaming and Fili starting to smile carefully as they watch. She blinks a tear away when she reads the message. “You two made this yourselves? And you know I love flowers, don’t you. Mr. Fundin is right, that was very thoughtful of you two. He seems like a very nice man, doesn’t he?” 

Kili agrees with a vehement “Yes,” and Fili nods. Mr. Fundin didn’t get angry with them at all. Sure, they hadn’t exactly shattered his window or ruined his lawn with bike marks, but he didn’t seem even a bit annoyed to find them plucking flowers from his front yard. And he’s even offered to send his brother to help with repairs and keep an eye on the him and Kili, which was just as well, since Fili hadn’t exactly done the best job of watching his brother this time. His mother might just prefer to leave them with someone competent from now on.

“Such pretty flowers,” their mom says, looking over at the daylilies on the table, and then she extends her arms out. “Come here, you two. I think a group hug is in order.”

They both disappear in her arms where it’s familiar and comfortable, even if every year they fit differently against her as their frames change and hers doesn’t. The scent of chamomile shampoo tickles Fili’s nose; Kili’s body is wriggly next to his, a small arm on his back. He puts his face against the smooth fabric of his mother’s blouse and wonders how much he’d let her down.

Yet she doesn’t say anything about it as dinner cooks, as they eat around their scratched wooden table. Kili wobbles on his chair, bubbly about visiting their kind neighbor, and their mother is thoughtful, though she smiles every time her eyes meet the hesitant blue of Fili’s, and the edges of her mouth crinkle up. He eats his potato soup to the last drop, swallows his bread - he was hungry, but now the meal sits heavy in his stomach despite her tender gaze. He can’t bring himself to talk to her while Kili’s here, because Kili trusts Fili and depends on him, and he couldn’t bear any cracks in that solid belief.

He doesn’t get a chance to speak until after they’d done the dishes, Fili washing and Kili drying this time - though it doesn’t make a difference because Kili grumbles at the chore either way. Then the little brunet’s bath time comes, and while he’s splashing away in the little tub and making loud engine sounds for the little ship toys he has, Fili finds his mother in her bedroom, bent over the sewing machine. 

“Momma?” he says.

She looks up, smiles again. “What is it, Fili?”

He shuffles up to her, almost touching her shoulder with his body. “I’m sorry I let you down today.” He can’t manage more than a whisper.

Her arms fall away from her work, eyebrows rise in surprise. “Let me down? You - you didn’t, my love. Why would you think so?”

Fili frowns, not understanding. “Because you trusted me to take care of Kili, and - and he got a cut on his thumb and he ran out without waiting for me and took Mr. Fundin’s flower, and - his jeans got all dirty, and-”

She sighs. “Oh, my dear.” An arm goes around him, strong as their mother’s resolve, even if sometimes both get careworn. “Kili’s barely cut himself at all, and he’ll be more careful next time, right?” She smiles. “His pants will wash, and if not, well, he’ll grow out of them in a few month’s time anyway. As for him dashing out…”

“He could have run into the street!” Fili says. 

“He knows not to do that. And I’m sure you followed him.” Her smile wavers. “Look at you, my little lion. So strong and responsible - but you shouldn’t need to be, not yet. I wish -” She pulls him closer. “In the end, Kili dashing out made us a new friend, didn’t it? Mr. Fundin seems nice. And I’m glad to know there is someone nearby who can keep an eye on you once in a while. But I’m not worried that you can’t take care of Kili, I know you can, I just wish you didn’t have to, okay?”

“I can do it, I don’t know what happened today...”

“Nothing happened, except that we got to know our neighbor better. Don’t you want to go hang out with Mr. Fundin sometime, read his books?”

“Yeah, I do…” he nods, looking at her luminous eyes, the dark hair that shines under the light of her lamp. “So you’re not angry?”

“No,” she smiles. “I’m not angry at all.” She kisses his cheek, and there’s that little bit of wetness in her eyes again that makes Fili’s heart ache as she ruffles his hair. “Your father would be quite proud of you, Fili. And I’m not saying that lightly, because your da - he was the best kind of man. He was the best and expected the best - and you would have made him very happy. Although…” She trails off as she sometimes does when reminiscing about him, the tall blond figure from Fili’s fading memories. He drinks in her expression, her every word. “Sometimes he was too hard on himself if he thought he’d failed at something, and… I can see you might have inherited that. I want you to go easy on yourself, alright?”

“Alright…” he murmurs, not sure how one does that but willing to promise anyway.

“Now, let’s go chase Kili out of the tub before he gets too wrinkly. And then how about a story? I think I need one today as well. Do you want me to read, or will you?” She stands up, taking his hand as they head out of the cramped little room. 

“You,” he says, and the weight in his chest finally eases a little. 

It’s fully gone by the time he is in pajamas and in bed, sheets tucked under his arms and a chilly pocket around his feet. Kili tosses and gets tangled in his blanket immediately; he’s a restless reader, jumping in with questions, comments, exclamations of excitement - until their mother threatens to close to book and turn out the lights if she can’t get two straight words in. It works for a few minutes and then the squirming and questions start anew, but Fili sees his mother smile as she bends over the book, and he closes his eyes, content.


	2. Trouble With Peonies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More little troubles of a little lion- or in other words, some straight up little Durin fluff :))
> 
> I decided to split the rest of the story into two chapters - so here is the second chapter of three :)  
> Enjoy!

The whirring of a sewing machine carries from their mother’s room to the kitchen. Fili sits at the round, scratched table, working on a drawing of a snow-capped mountain ridge; he’s putting finishing touches on it while Kili sits next to him, chin propped on his elbows and body leaning forward to see better. He seems to vibrate with contained energy.

Or not so contained.

“Can you put a dragon in there?” Kili blurts out as if not able to hold himself back anymore. The whole table jiggles with his unrestrained excitement and his hazel eyes are huge when Fili looks up. 

“Stop fidgeting, Kee, or I’ll mess it up,” he reminds his brother gently. 

The youngster sits back, though his expression is no less eager. “Can you, Fee?” he repeats, the last word almost a squeak.

Fili hadn’t planned on including any mythological creatures in his art, but his little brother’s puppy eyes are hard to say no to - they’ve always been. Sometimes he wonders if Kili is aware of this and is playing his older sibling like that fiddle they have after their dad; if he’s molding him like modeling clay to his own ends. But Kili is ever earnest in all his interactions, so open with his emotions; it’s highly unlikely. And that makes it even more impossible to refuse.

“Okay,” Fili nods. “Just a tiny one, though.” He considers the scene for a moment and then pencils in a tiny figure atop one of the more distant peaks: a dragon that has just landed, his wings still extended out above him. A long snout, a puff of smoke escaping from a miniature nostril, a long curled-up tail trailing down the mountain side.

Kili watches every new line with baited breath, a hand traveling up to his mouth absently. Fili smiles under his breath. Kili’s first tooth is loose and the youngster is obsessed with it, part fascinated and part terrified about the expectation of it falling out soon. He can't seem to stop touching it, wiggling it, gauging when it might fall out. A tip of a curious finger goes between Kili's lips even now to check if there's any progress.

At least that finger is no longer sporting a band-aid, and there’s only a barely visible speck of healing skin where Kili cut himself last weekend while making the card for Mother's Day. Fili is sure that the tiny wound has already been forgotten by its owner. He hasn’t quite put that afternoon last week behind himself yet, but the feeling that he’d failed at his task of keeping Kili safe has somewhat lessened under the reassurances from his mother. He’s still a little nervous, though; next time, he’ll have to be on his toes… If there will be a next time.

His thoughts are interrupted by Kili’s excited voice. “What’s the dragon’s name, Fee? Is he an evil one?”

“Hmm…” Fili considers it, a corner of his lip lifting. He casts his mind out for a dragon-y enough name while adding tiny claws to the ends of the beast's feet. “His name is… his name is Grâk. He is a an old dragon, born deep under the mountains, and that’s where he keeps his hoard of jewels and-”

He’s grinning at Kili’s wide hazel orbs as his brother drinks in the story with eagerness. Before his imagination can take him any further, though, the sound of heavy footsteps outside on the porch, followed by a knock on the door interrupts their pastime.

Blond and brown-haired head both whip around at the same time, locks flying. They don’t get a lot of visitors, except for momma’s customers picking up orders once in a while, but those they are usually informed about in advance. This one is unexpected.

“Who is it, Fee?” Kili slides off his chair, shooting for the door like a rocket, but Fili beats him to it this time. He’s taking no chances after Kili’s last dash out of house and into Mr. Fundin’s front yard, so he charges out of his seat, longer legs making it easy to outrun the youngster.

Soft spring breeze teases Fili's face as soon as he opens the door, weaving through his hair and lifting and tossing it gently. But Fili barely has time to notice how pleasant it feels as his eyes fall on scratched-up brown boots, then travel all the way up to the face of the person who has come to call. Next to him, Kili inhales with an audible hitch.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stands on their porch, the top of his head shiny and bald. Nearly a half of his chest is covered with a long, full beard which seems to be making up for the lack of hair above. His arms look massive in the long sleeves of his blue shirt, and he’s holding a toolbox in one hand; in the other, rather awkwardly, a bouquet of deep pink flowers. 

The toolbox makes something in Fili's mind click into place and he realizes who this must be. 

The man confirms his deduction in the next moment. “Good afternoon, lads,” he says when neither of the boys manage a word, and he peers down at them from under thick eyebrows. “I’m Dwalin, yer neighbor’s brother, come to look at yer porch.” 

The height difference between Mr. Fundin and his sibling is nothing short of astonishing, and Fili has to work to cover up his surprise at the man’s appearance. To his right, he suspects Kili’s jaw might actually be hitting his sloppily tied shoelaces at any second, if it's not already there.

“Hi - er - good afternoon,” Fili stutters, momentarily overcome by the man’s sheer size: If Mr. Fundin resembles a fairytale grandpa in a rather comforting way, Dwalin looks more like he could play the part of an evil henchman. Fili takes a breath and gathers his manners. “I’m Fili Durin, and this is Kili.”

“Oh, aye, nice to meet’ya.” Dwalin nods. “My brother told me there were two little rascals living here.” He cracks a smile under his mustache. “And that they like to read dragon stories. I liked those too when I was a wee lad like you.”

Kili, not inherently shy to begin with, seems to have overcome his apprehensions about the towering man already. Especially now that dragons have been mentioned. “I have a wobbly tooth!” He announces perfectly out of nowhere, opening his mouth wide and showing it off to Dwalin.

The bearded man bends down to peek at it, then nods seriously. “Aye, I can see that. Almost ready to come out, eh? My ma used to-”

He trails off as down the hallway, Fili’s mother’s voice sounds, carrying a note of surprise. 

“Oh, hello there!” 

Only now does Fili realize that the persistent whirring of the sewing machine has stopped. Their mother must have heard them over her work. Fili turns to see her walk up behind him and Kili, then one warm palm settles on each boy's little shoulder. Her brown hair is tied up in a messy bun so it stays out of her way while she sews; Fili notices that her cheeks seem to have taken on a smattering of a flush at the sight of the visitor.

“Momma, it’s Mr. Fundin’s brother!” Kili announces with glee. “He’s so much bigger than Mr. Fundin, isn’t he?”

Before Mrs. Durin can stop this undue commentary on their visitor’s relative size to his sibling, Dwalin chuckles. “Oh, indeed. I believe I caught up to my brother’s height before we were out of first grade of school. He’s still a smidge upset about it…” he adds in conspiratorial tone to the boys, and Kili laughs. “Maybe I’ll be taller than Fee one day. But Fee won’t be angry, he’s almost never angry with me.”

The heat of a blush creeps into Fili’s face, as if he is caught guilty of something. Although Kili clearly exaggerates. There had to have been times when Fili had been annoyed with Kili, although right now he can’t quite recall one. Annoyed - yes. Angry?

Behind them, their mother chuckles. “They will talk your ear off if you let them.”

“Ah, they’re fine, let them talk,” Dwalin says. ”Balin said you’d be expecting me? He told me your porch was crumbling, and he was right. Sends you these, by the way.” Dwalin offers up the handful of big pink blossoms, and Fili’s mother receives them with slightly raised eyebrows of surprise. The tall man adjusts his beard with his freed fingers, coughs, and continues. “No idea what they are called, but he says they're just starting to bloom, and that the boys had been wanting to get you proper flowers, so...” He smooths his mustache. “I’m Dwalin, by the way.”

“Dis Durin,” Fili’s mother says, and they shake hands in the gap between the boys. “It’s so very kind of you to stop by. I’ve been meaning to get someone to do the repairs, but there’s always something else that is more urgent and…” She trails off, and when Fili turns to peek at her, she is dipping her face low over the flowers, inhaling their scent with an odd expression in her eyes. “These are gorgeous peonies,” she says. She catches her son’s eye and smiles. “Fili, would you put these in a vase?”

“Can I help?” Kili exclaims before Fili can nod, running ahead to the sink. “I want to put them in too!”

“Yes, Kili-kins, go help your brother,” she nods, sending both boys back inside the kitchen.

While Fili’s climbing a chair to reach a vase in one of the upper cabinets, he can hear their mum and Dwalin speak just outside. The tall man is matter-of-fact, deflecting repeated thanks with a low “don’t worry about it” and “it’s just a bit of work”. Kili, clutching the flowers, is staring out at the newcomer in thorough fascination, and Fili has to prompt him twice to put the flowers in when the vase is filled. The brunet does so with a bit of haste and his usual excess of vigor, and the cold water splatters over the top of the painted vase onto Fili’s shoes, soaking through them to his toes. 

“Oops, sorry, Fee,” Kili cringes, looking up at his brother with worry curving his eyebrows.

Fili sighs, but can’t really be mad with Kili; he’s curious about their guest too.

He sets the vase down in the middle of the table, in the same place where the daylilies and the card resided last week. Mr. Fundin senior had been right: the yellow flowers didn’t last. But the card is now pinned on the cork board next to their fridge among announcements from school, random photos, and the calendar for this month. Looking back, the card seems like a bit of an underwhelming effort, like they could have done better, but there hadn’t been quite enough time and crafting with Kili is a fine balance between encouraging and tempering that boundless energy, so Fili's glad for the result as it is, all in all. 

Both boys shuffle back to the doorway after Fili helps Kili wipe the spilled water off the kitchen floor. Now they look on as Mr. Dwalin inspects the boards and columns of the porch, testing them; he grips a part of the bottom step between his massive thumb and index finger and bits of the wood fall away easily, crumbling onto the stones of the walkway.

“Oh, that’s not good,” their mother comments, a frown drawing her eyebrows in.

“No, not good, not to mention dangerous,” Dwalin replies. “A few more months and it could have gotten even worse. When it gets soft like that, someone’s foot might go right through the wood, and ye could be dealing with a serious injury.”

Fili sees their mother blanch. “I didn’t realize it was that bad, or I would have -” She looks at the boys in concern, clearly worried that they could have gotten hurt because of her inaction, because their budget always ran out before she could do something about the problem. The look in her face grates at Fili; he wants to go hug her, but then Dwalin speaks soothingly, and Fili stays rooted to the spot.

“Ah, ya couldn’t have known, and with two boys to take care of, there’s plenty else to worry about.” He sounds gruff but kind, and Mrs. Durin nods, looking on as Dwalin pulls out a measuring tape to get the correct dimensions. When he’s done, he straightens up. “Yer columns here don’t seem much better, honestly, but for now, let’s start with the most urgent part, yeah? I’ve got some boards in my brother’s garage from when I worked on his house, I’ll see if they will work.”

“Can I - I can at least pay you for the materials,” Fili’s mother says upon hearing that. “Just let me know how much-”

Dwalin dismisses the suggestion with a wave of his large, hairy hand. “Oh, nonsense. Balin’ll be glad to get rid of the stuff. Keeps saying he’s tripping over them every time he needs his tools, you'll be doing us a favor.”

Before she can say another word, he strides off decidedly, down the pathway and over to his brother’s house. Fili’s mom turns around and gives the boys a rather flabbergasted look. “Well it looks like - like we are getting a new stair or two,” she says. “I’m rather - well. I wonder -” She pauses again. “I think I still have some meat in the freezer? Hmm.”

Fili frowns at her rather confusing strain of thought, but then his mother grins at the crease in his forehead and says: “I think we’ve got everything we need. Do you boys want to help me make meat pies?”

Kili nearly falls over himself in excitement. “Yes! I love meat pies!”

“I know, darling. But before you get all worked up, you need to know that we’ll be making them for Mr. Dwalin and Mr. Balin, and only if we have any meat left over we can make one for us as well.” Their mother releases her hair from the back of her head, then combs it back up into a new bun that she clips into place; she’s all business again, the self-conscious gratitude from earlier giving way to her efficient manner once more. And while Kili’s delight at the prospect of one of his favorite meals deflates somewhat at the idea of making them for someone else, Fili smiles. When his mother is at ease, he knows he can be as well.

They make dough and cook the meat with onions and spice. Kili pulls up a stool to stir the bubbling mixture on the stove, while Fili presses the dough into a pie pan he’d just greased up. Their mother bustles about, cutting vegetables and overseeing the cooking process, while outside on the porch the younger Mr. Fundin cuts boards with a handsaw, hammers them together, then tears out the old steps to make room for the new ones.

The aroma of thyme, sage and garlic permeates the kitchen as Kili spoons the filling into three pie shells, Fili covering the pies with a circle of dough and their mom crimping the edges and cutting slits in the top layer. Then into the oven the pies go, Kili nearly burning himself despite focusing so hard that his tongue is sticking out between his teeth. Fili wants to remind him not to bite himself, but he’s afraid that if he speaks, one of the pies might end up on the floor instead.

With the pies secure, their mother sends the boys to their room to play, though while they stage a scene of a dramatic cavalry attack on a castle, both of them still keep an ear out for the sounds from outside. Between the hammering and Mr. Dwalin’s heavy footsteps, Fili can make out the sounds of a conversation that must be floating between the working man and their mother over the threshold. Fili wonders what they are talking about, especially when he hears their mother laugh. It rings differently in his ears than the laugh he is familiar with - she doesn’t spare the boys the sound, though to Fili, it can’t come often enough. But now, it sounds - different.

The oven timer dings, and Kili shoots past his older brother like a flash, knocking over the advancing plastic knights in his rush. “Momma, the pies are done, they’re done!” he shouts.

Fili stands up and for once leaves the toys as they are, strewn out of order across the blue carpet of their shared room. Although he follows at a slower pace, he is about as full of curiosity as his brother. He peeks out to see Mr. Dwalin picking up some tools before walking up behind Kili to the oven. 

Their mother emerges from the pantry with a broomstick and a dustpan, carrying it to the porch. “Just a minute, boys, they won’t burn,” she says, smiling and bright-eyed. She walks up to the door and Mr. Dwalin is right there, taking them from her, the handles looking small in his large hands. “I’ll take it from here,” he says.

“You don’t have to clean up-” their mother protests, but Dwalin is having none of it. “”S a part of the job,” he smiles gruffly. “Besides, there’s hardly any mess.”

Kili, in the meantime, fishes out the oven mittens from their drawer and pushes one at Fili’s chest. They are armed and ready when their mother joins them, a little flush spread over her cheeks again. “Ready, boys? Let’s see how those pies turned out.”

Steam, full of savory scents, envelopes them when they open the door. The filling is bubbling up through the slits in the flaky dough when Fili pulls one of the pies out, laying it carefully on the counter. Kili follows suit, his eyes looking hungry as he takes in the golden color of the crust, darker around the edges. “Perfect,” he breathes. 

They had enough for a third pie, though it has a bit less filling than the other two that are intended as thank you gifts. Fili checks the clock - not quite dinner time yet - but he can already taste the pie in his mouth, feel the texture on his tongue. Next to him, Kili seems to be already mentally slicing his own portion. 

And their mother reads them both like an open book. “Let’s let them cool off, shall we?” she says. “And then it will be almost time to devour them. Now, let’s go look at what Mr. Dwalin built and thank him profusely for his hard work.”

They do. The new steps stand out, the wood not quite so weathered as the rest of the porch, and they look much sturdier than their frail predecessors. Kili asks if he can test them, and is given a full permission to do so - he whoops when the stairs hold fast under his enthusiastic feet. Dwalin laughs, and Fili thinks about testing them too, but- 

Dwalin catches the blond casting a glance at the tools in his toolbox, curious about their uses, their weight. “You want to look at these?” Dwalin asks in his gruff voice, and Fili hesitates, then nods.

They are heavier than he imagined; solid and cool and smooth in his hand. A wrench with a dial, a hammer, screwdriver, file, level. Dwalin explains and Kili comes over to listen as well, but soon he’s too busy bouncing up and down again, tugging on their mother’s blouse sleeve. “Are the pies cool now? Can we give one to Mr. Dwalin?”

Fili hands the tools back, and Mr. Dwalin smiles up with the corner of his mouth. He still looks gruff and mountainous, but his eyes have a sympathetic twinkle in them when he leans forward. “Maybe next time, you can help me a little, yeah?”

Dis winks at FIli, then looks at Dwalin. “You’ve already done so much work. I wouldn’t dare expect you to do any more than this, you really don’t have to -”

“Ah, it was quick, and these beams -” Dwalin knocks at one of the supporting columns of the porch, “look like the next rainstorm might take them down.” He looks up. “And your gutters look like they are hanging by a thread, there, you don’t want them come down... It’s a quick fix, really, all of it. I’d be happy to do it.”

“Then please at least come in, the boys and I made something for your brother and you,” Dis says, somewhere between resigned and grateful as she finally gives in to Kili’s steady pull on her sleeve and ushers everyone in. Kili turns, tripping over the threshold. “It’s a meat pie! And it’s the best! You’ll love it!”

One bite in, and the tall man’s eyes go wide. “Very good, this,” he says, wiping a trickling bead of grease from his lip. He swallows another mouthful and nods at the food appreciatively. “For this, I’ll fix yer whole roof!”

Kili grins and Fili smiles and their mother’s eyes sparkle with a light Fili had not seen there since - since the sound of a fiddle still sometimes carried through the house. She looks pretty, which she always does, but the way her cheeks glow makes Fili wonder as he bites into his own piece of the pie. Kili has already wolfed down an entire slice and is now throwing glances at another, waiting for a signal from his mother before he dives in. Fili eats slowly, even if he knows that his brother, half his age but with twice his appetite, might out-eat him if he doesn’t hurry.

“Why don’t you two go play?” their mother suggests when they’ve both eaten a few pieces and even Kili is losing some of his original steam. So off they go, full bellies and mouths shiny with grease, and they sprawl contentedly on the carpet in their room. From the kitchen, the adults’ voices reach them: conversation dotted with laughter, continuing steadily. Kili reorders the knights he’d knocked over and the castle assault begins anew.

The donjon is down and the main gate is being breached when, an hour later, Fili realizes that outside it is getting dark and Mr. Dwalin’s voice still carries through the hallway to them. There is more serious talk going on right now, as much as Fili can tell from the quieter tones of the voices. Fili wonders if they could still possibly be talking about house repairs. There can’t be that much to talk about in that regard even if their house is in a sorry state…

Kili catches on to his brother’s distraction, scooting closer to Fili and actually peeking out of the room into the hallway and towards the voices. “I wonder if Mr. Dwalin ate the whole pie?” he says when he looks back at the blond. “You think he ate the whole pie?”

Fili grins. “Maybe!” he professes. “He’s tall enough for it!”

Kili huffs. “Hmm. I want to be tall like that too. Do you think our father was as tall as Mr. Dwalin? I want to be able to eat the whole meat pie. That would be awesome -”

Before Fili can point out that Kili can already eat pretty much a half of it on his better days, the bottomless days, or you-will-need-new-pants-next-week days, as their mother calls them, Kili’s musings continue in a way Fili does not expect. “Do you think -” Kili’s hazel eyes widen almost comically at his own thought - “do you think momma and Mr. Dwalin are going to get married? What if Mr. Dwalin is going to be our father?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fili replies, dismissing the thought. “They’ve just met, they’re just talking like grownups do…” 

But then it gives him pause. He trails off, listening to Mr. Dwalin’s soft chuckle in the kitchen and his mother’s answering laugh. There’s a note in it, clear as a bell, and it makes her sound younger and Fili likes it and at the same time, he frowns. Fidgeting with his plastic archer figurine, he bites his lip. _It couldn't happen, could it?_

Suddenly he isn’t so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist one direct quote of Dwalin's from AUJ...   
> Would love to hear everyone's thoughts :)))  
> Thank you for reading!!!


	3. Trouble with Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since this story updated O_O
> 
> This was going to be the last chapter but what I've written so far has gotten a bit longer than anticipated so I'm going to split it :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Homework laid out in front of him, Fili chews on a pencil as he multiplies and subtracts numbers in his head and scribbles his answer on the sheet of paper, narrowing his eyes at it as he double checks his results.

He’s been at it for half an hour and he is eager to be done: the sun streaming in through the curtained kitchen window is beckoning to him, warming his cheek, tempting him. He wants to play outside, after a whole day stuffed in a desk in the classroom and watching another gorgeous early summer day pass by as the teachers droned on with their lessons. He does like school, though he would not mind if they had more history and recess and less math and physics. But he does alright in those as well if he focuses hard enough.

Which is getting harder as each day smells more and more like summer break now; green grass and warm air buzzing with energy, promising two months of freedom.

He sighs and redoubles his focus. He’d already be done ten minutes ago if it wasn’t for Kili, but his younger brother’s enthusiasm for Fili’s homework is unending even now as the end of the school year approaches. It can only be explained by Kili seeing it as a part of Fili’s exciting, bigger brother world - Fili is pretty sure that once the homework is actually Kili’s own, its appeal will wane very fast.

But for now, its endearing. Kili insists on mimicking all of the assignments Fili brings home, pretending to follow the complicated math problems. His paper is just a line of numbers, all in a row without any separation. He still has trouble writing some of them right – threes and fives sometimes face the right way and sometime not quite, but each digit is painstakingly written out.

“Did I get it right?” Kili says as he finishes copying Fili’s answer, tacking it straight onto the end of the previous one until it looks like Kili’s homework consists of one 35-digit snake. Fili looks up at him: Kili is kneeling on the chair the better to see Fili’s work, his hair in a typical afternoon mess of strands going every which way and bangs now sneaking into his eyes. As he beams at Fili, waiting for confirmation, Fili spies the new tooth that is pushing into the gap left by the first baby one Kili had lost.

He leans over, makes sure to go over the number carefully to maintain the gravity of Kili’s efforts. “Yeah,” he says. “You got it.”

Kili grins wider. “How many are left? Just one?”

Fili nods, blond hair trailing down the side of his face as he leans over the paper again.  “And then we can play outside.”

“Can we kick the ball? Or go to Mr. Fundin’s?”

“Maybe,” Fili says. “Let’s finish first.” He reaches for his lemonade and then chews on a cookie which their mother had left on the table for them before retreating to her room to finish a quick sewing order. She’s been working just as hard as ever even though uncle Thorin had been back six weeks ago and said he’d found a good job and will be able to help them more. He might even be able to visit in the summer for a short holiday - this time he was only able to stay two days.

The cookie gone in three quick bites, Fili glances at Kili who is now chasing leftover crumbs from the plate, having devoured his own cookies already. Only when the tiniest of cookie bits is gone does Kili get back to the last homework problem, scribbling Fili’s answer down at the end of his line and then jumping up with a burst of excitement.

“Momma, momma! We’ve finished homework! We’re going to play outside!” he bounds down the hall, poking his head into the room where their mother works.

The machine’s rhythmic noise pauses and Fili, putting his homework away into his school bag, can hear their mother’s voice respond. There’s a hint of tiredness beneath the cheerfulness of her tone.

“Oh, well done, puppy. Did you help Fili?”

“Fili helped me!” Kili confessed. “But I think I’m getting good with numberers.”

“Numbers, Kee,” Mrs. Durin corrects gently, a smile in her voice. “I’m sure you are going to be a math  whiz in no time.”

“What’s that?” Kili asks.

“Someone who is really fast at counting.”

“You think so? But – Fili’s so far ahead of me, I’ll never be as good as Fili…” Kili states.

Fili pulls on his shoes, frowning when he notices that some of the seams around the toes are fraying and one seems to be growing a little gap. He almost gets up to tell his mother, but then thinks better of it. Sometimes he and Kili needing a new pair of pants or a new winter coat and boots makes a wrinkle appear right in the middle of her forehead, even if she exclaims with admiration that they both seem to be taking after their da in height and speedily catching up to hers. That always warms that place in the middle of Fili’s chest that always comes alive at the mention of their father, and it makes him swell with happiness; but he can’t help but see their momma’s worries as well.

He follows after Kili down the hallway when his shoes are on, just as Mrs. Durin answers: “Well, Fili is older so he’s gone to school for a few years already and you haven’t. But one day you’ll both know as much math as the other, don’t you worry.”

She looks up when Fili appears at the door: she is wearing a small smile and the light illuminating her work makes her hair shine. “All done?” she asks him.

He nods. “Can we go play out now?”

“Yes, of course.” She ruffles Kili’s hair. “But stay on our block, alright? And try not to end up at Mr. Fundin’s again, he’s been very kind to you boys but we mustn’t overdo it with the visits, alright?”

“I thought you liked when we go to Mr. Balin’s house?” says Kili.

“I do,” she says. “But he is retired and probably wants his peace too, sometimes.”

Fili sighs, disappointed a tad. Mr. Balin’s book collection has not yet stopped fascinating Fili and he wonders now if he’d been going there too often to pick out books or just read in one of the big plush armchairs with ears.

“Okay, momma,” says Fili. “We’ll play in our yard, Kili wanted to play with the football.”

“Sounds good,” Mr. Durin says. “I’ll be done here in a blaze and then I’ll be making stuffed meat buns.”

“Oooh!” Kili’s eyes brighten. “I love those! Except for the carrots, can you skip the carrots?”

“No, I can’t,” Mrs. Durin laughs. “You need to eat your veggies, both of you. Now go get some fresh air, you need that too.” She ushers them out and Kili follows after Fili with a small whine about orange intruders in his favorite meal. Fili chuckles and helps Kili into his shoes and they both take off for the door at a run, Fili throwing it open.

They are not more than three steps across the still new-looking porch boards when Fili comes to a halt: the younger Mr. Fundin is standing at the bottom of the stairs he’d so charitably constructed for them, looking up at the sound of their thumping footsteps from under his gruff eyebrows.

The sight of his tall, wide figure is not exactly a surprise: he’s a regular at their house on the weekends now, stopping by almost every Saturday or Sunday to fix this and that, always noticing something else that needs urgent attention and taking care of it at the next occasion. He’d helped with the gutters, the window painting, the sealing and weatherproofing of the door, the loose tiles on the back patio. Towards the end of the afternoon he’d always get invited in for a piece of cake, freshly baked bread with ham and cheese, or stew; with that, his tasks slowly moved indoor and he’d fixed a dripping faucet, redid the caulking in the boys’ tub, and installed new doorknobs on the kitchen cabinets. Sometimes he’d stay longer to chat with their mom, tell stories to the boys, or let Fili help him with a small task, but that is usually it: he is always polite and kind and appreciative of the food Fili’s mom has prepared but then he always heads home.

Fili’s budding fear that Mr. Dwalin would somehow try to take over their family has not materialized. He’s relaxed now, having filed Kili’s remark about their momma marrying the tall bearded man away in the chuckle-worthy but ridiculous section of his brother’s exclamations.

Now, though, something about Mr. Dwalin gives Fili pause. First of all, it’s not the weekend: it’s Tuesday and Mr. Dwalin has never been here on a Tuesday.  Moreover, he notes as he inspects the man with slightly narrowed eyes, Mr. Dwalin is not dressed in his usual brown work pants and old shirt; he is wearing a dark green shirt with a fancy grey vest over it and black pants that look way too nice for kneeling on the floor or getting saw dust all over them.

And also, he is carrying a large bouquet of flowers; they are pink and red and yellow and tall, with crinkled paper wrapped around them to protect them. His tool box is nowhere to be seen.

“Hello, boys,” Mr. Dwalin greets them, looking a little bit as if they’d caught him unawares as he shifts from foot to foot. “Coming out to enjoy the sunny afternoon?”

Fili has a nod ready but next to him, Kili bellows, partly turning his head back towards the house: “Momma! Mr. Dwalin is here! He has flowers!”

Distracted, Fili frowns and bites his lip before greeting Mr. Dwalin and answering as politeness dictates. “Hi, Mr. Dwalin. Kili wanted to play ball, so-“

“Yeah, we’re all done with homework! Well, Fili is, I just copied his, but momma says I’ll be a whiz! I forgot what it means, but it’s something that’s fast.” Kili says it all in one breath and then takes another breath in order to continue. “We’re going to play but maybe not at Mr. Balin’s because we might bother his retirement!”

Temporarily distracted, Mr. Dwalin chuckles when Kili reaches the end of his monologue. “I’m sure my brother loves having you two around. But listen to your mother first and foremost, I’d say.”

“Dwalin? I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today.”

Fili’s and Kili’s mom steps onto the threshold and Mr. Dwalin’s face goes back to hesitant, almost nervous. He smiles up at her and then walks up past the boys. “Well, I-“

“Are these roses?” says Kili, getting a closer look. “They have thorns, right? I poked myself on one last week.  Did Mr. Balin send these?”

Mr. Dwalin’s smile takes on a very unusual, self-conscious quality. “They’re from his garden, aye, but I wanted – it was I who – I brought them for you.”

He holds the flowers out to the boys’ mom and Fili’s heart starts racing, eyes going wide as his mother smiles and a faint flush rises into her cheeks. “I – that was very thoughtful of you, they are beautiful.”

And over the slightly panicked gallop of Fili’s heart Kili exclaims: “Oooh, is that because you like our momma? Is that why you brought her flowers?”

Fili has the urge to step on Kili’s foot to silence him and at the same time, he hopes the adults will deny that could be Mr. Dwalin’s motivation.

Mr. Dwalin smiles rather guiltily, though, and says: “Well, aye, Kili, to be perfectly honest.”

Fili watches with alarm as his mother, instead of telling Mr. Dwalin that he should not say such things, smiles back rather brilliantly and then looks down at the boys with her eyes shining and a tad distracted. “Why don’t you two go play? The ball is still in the back garden, go grab it and get those feet running before the afternoon is over.”

“Okay! Let’s go, Fili!” Kili says, running down and around the house like a flash.

Fili trails behind him, all his appetite for the game gone. He is not sure why, but he feels like someone’s just about to pull the rug out from under him.

 

 

 

That night as they are getting tucked in, Fili lays on his side and bunches up some of his blanket under his chin while watching Mrs. Durin put away the storybooks they’d been reading. Her words from earlier, after Mr. Dwalin had left, replay in his mind: that Mr. Dwalin likes talking to her and she to him and that they will go eat dinner together on Friday evening while the boys stay home with Mr. Balin.

It sounds simple and straightforward and Kili cheers at the end of her explanation, focusing entirely on having Mr. Balin in their house and showing off their books to him after he’d been allowing them to look at his.

But although it sounds nice for Mr. Balin to come here to watch them, Fili sees what is really going on; it makes that warm place inside him go all shaky and uncertain and a little afraid. He huffs and worries at his lip, looking up when their mother turns back to the two of them. She smiles at Kili’s big yawn and then gives a thoughtful glance to Fili.

“What are you frowning about, little lion?” she says. “Is it because of what I told you earlier?”

Fili shrugs, not sure he can transform the ache inside him into words.

“We are only going to dinner,” she says, stepping closer to ruffle his hair. He closes his eyes, the gentle touch calming him, but the ache bounces right back as soon as her hand is gone. “And maybe a little stroll. I will be back right around the time you two go to bed.”

“Then why don’t you eat here?” Fili says.

“Because Mr. Dwalin invited me and I think it was very lovely of him.”

“He doesn’t want me and Kili to be there this time?” Fili asks, his voice getting smaller.

She tilts her head, her eyes soft. “That’s not why he invited me somewhere else, Fili. You know Mr. Dwalin likes you two very much. It’s just… something grown-ups do.”

Kili, almost asleep by the looks of him just a second ago, opens his brown eyes wide. “When they like each other?”

Fili waits for her answer, waits for her to confirm or deny this supposition.

She turns to Kili, reaches out to comb the overlong bangs out of his eyes. “When they are figuring out if they do.”

It’s not exactly the reassurance that Fili wants. The ache inside his ribcage persists even as the lights are turned out, even after the moist place on his cheek where his momma kissed him goodnight fades and he drifts off.

 

***

It’s fun having Mr. Balin around in their house. He is kind and attentive, listening to everything Kili has to say which frankly, not many people can do without showing impatience sooner or later. Fili likes Mr. Balin just for that. They play on the living room floor though Mr. Balin has to move to the couch after a while on account of ‘old creaky knees’. Kili states that he’d heard no creaking and for the rest of the evening Fili can almost see his brother strain his ears every time their elderly neighbor moves, and he looks a bit disappointed that the joints are decidedly creak-free.

They cook pizza for which Mr. Balin had brought everything including the dough; he lets the boys shape and stretch and “decorate” it and then as they bake it, Kili can’t seem to hold in his excitement at watching the cheese melt in real time. Fili can already imagine how crisp the edges would be and how soft and chewy the center, but at the same time, he is bothered by Kili’s worry-free enjoyment. Because he can’t help but wonder where their mom is and if she is laughing with that bright laugh at Mr. Dwalin’s jokes and if he is watching her with that barely covered admiration; something Fili had seen in there a lot lately when Mr. Dwalin comes by to fix things up.

The pizza is delicious and afterwards, Mr. Balin reads to them from their favorite books, encouraging Kili to recognize and sound out his own words and making impressed sounds at Fili’s favorite story book he got for his birthday from uncle Thorin last year. It’s called Tales from under mountains. The volume is beautifully illustrated and Fili is proud to have it; he’d read it at least twenty times now. When Mr. Balin asks if he may borrow it to read it with genuine interest, Fili nearly bursts with happiness and immediately agrees.

But then when they lay in bed and Kili is wriggling and asking if he can bring his firetruck to bed, Fili strains his ears for footsteps on the porch. Mama’d said she’d be back around now. Did she and Mr. Dwalin had such a nice time that they decided to stay out till later? What if this happened every week, what if Mr. Dwalin came to live here? It’s happened to one of Fili’s classmates who got a new step-mom and he said she’d been nice at first but now she wants him to do all the chores and yells at him when it takes him too long.

Fili thinks that their mom would not let that happen if Mr. Dwalin moved in here with them. She’d not let him be mean to Kili and him; he’s sure of it. But things would change, that much he’s sure of as well.

It takes him a while to fall asleep, but even so there are no footsteps to hear, just silence, in and outside their house.

 

 

In the morning he gets up, hair standing every which way and eyes bleary and he hears her: their mom is in the kitchen, mugs clattering, and she is singing.

“Hey, Fili-kins,” she says when he pads in on bare feet, the smell of powdered cocoa sneaking up his nostrils. She looks light on her toes, though her smile dims a little at Fili’s unhappy expression. “How was your evening with Mr. Balin? Did you have fun? He said you made pizza-“

“You didn’t come home at bedtime,” Fili interrupts.

“I’m sorry, love,” she replies, leaning down to him and ordering his blond locks a little. “We went for a stroll along the river and lost track of time for a minute.”

“Oh.” He nods, smiling a little so as not to ruin her obviously cheery mood. He means to add something about Mr. Balin being interested in his book – but then Kili flies in like a mini-tornado and leaps at their mom from the side. “Muuuum! We had pizzaaaa! We made it ourselves! And we watched the cheese melt, it was so good, wasn’t it, Fili?”

“Yeah,” Fili says.

“That sounds wonderful,” she says, grinning at them both, though her eyes linger on Fili. “Do you boys have room for breakfast after all that yummy food last night?”

“Yes!” Kili exclaims. “I’m hungry! And guess what! Mr. Balin teached me new words!”

“Taught, Kili,” Fili says automatically. “And he borrowed my book from uncle Thorin, too.”

She makes an impressed face, peeling Kili off of herself to set him down on the chair at the table. The roses from Tuesday are still there in the vase, a few stray petals gracing the table after falling off. “You let him borrow your favorite book? That was kind of you, Fili.” She rearranges a few of the stems, bends closer to smell one red blossom and picking up the stray petals; then she puts a hand on her hip. “So, who wants pancakes?”

No one could mistake Kili’s excited squeak for a ‘no’; Fili laughs and adds his own, slightly more subdued but just as excited ‘me too’.

 

 

 

On Sunday, Mr. Dwalin stops by and this time he is wearing the attire they’d grown used to seeing on him: rough work pants, shirt with rolled up sleeves, the inevitable tool box. Fili opens the door for him and Mr. Dwalin grins at him.

“Hi, Fili. Thanks for letting me borrow yer mom on Friday,” he says with a wink. “I hope she enjoyed herself.”

Fili’s not sure what to say to that. It’s not like anyone had asked him for permission and like he had any say in the matter. But he smiles back, because their mom had been happy all weekend.

“You’re welcome,” he says and he can’t help but add: “Though she was late for our bedtime.”

“Oh,” Mr. Dwalin says, and for a second he looks a slight bit taken aback. Then he nods in understanding. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll be sure to bring her home on time next time.”

Which means, Fili thinks, that they are planning on going out again?

Just then, his mom comes walking down the hall, smiling. “Dwalin,” she says. “Hi, come in, please.”

She walks up to stand next to Fili and a warm hand touches Fili’s shoulder.

“Good afternoon, Dis. I hope I find you well?” Mr. Dwalin steps over the threshold, leaning in so he can kiss her on the cheek.

She accepts it, that faint flush creeping up her cheek again. Fili’s heart is hammering – a kiss? That vague fear is clamping down around his heart once more – does this mean they are in love? What _does_ this mean?

Kili bumps into Fili’s shoulder in his haste to say hello, chattering about the tower he’s been building from wooden blocks in the bedroom. Mrs. Durin puts the kettle on for coffee and Fili sits down at the table to work on his journal entry about a book he’s finished reading yesterday. But he can’t seem to pick up the string of what he was trying to say; one character’s name keeps slipping from his mind and he has to go get the book from his bag to leaf through it. Kili runs off again to finish the tower, accepting Mr. Dwalin’s presence like a natural part of their Sunday now.

Mr. Dwalin downs his coffee and then stands up. “Well, let me take those measurements for the closet shelves. I’ve some wood in Balin’s garage that I can use. It’ll be done in a crack of a whip.”

“You’ll stay for tea after? Or even supper?” Fili’s mom says.

“I don’t want to impose,” Mr. Dwalin says. “It being school tomorrow, yer probably busy with the boys…”

“We’d be glad to have you, wouldn’t we, Fili?” Mrs. Durin says. Fili’s head jerks up, and then he gives a quick nod, not knowing what else to do. It’s not that he minds Mr. Dwalin being here. But he’s not sure how he feels about the roses and the evenings out and the kiss on the cheek…

He does find his focus and finishes the journal entry once Mr. Dwalin thuds down the hallway with a tape measurer in hand and then out to his brother’s garage to cut the wood. But later, when Fili’s building a car from magnetic parts on the kitchen floor, Mr. Dwalin comes in with freshly cut and sanded shelves in his massive arms and nods down at Fili.

“Wanna help me fit these in? I can show you how the drill works.”

Fili chews on his lip as he lifts his eyes up to the tall bearded man. He is tempted, he really is – but something is holding him back, the fear, the little achy shaking inside his ribcage.

He’s not sure if it’d be rude to turn the offer down; he’d always accepted eagerly before. Yet this time, he can’t. At least mum is still in her room, finishing up a dress and not here to witness the exchange.

“No thanks,” he mumbles, lowering his head back down to his creation. “I – I want to work on my car.”

Mr. Dwalin makes an “oh” sound in the back of his throat, as if understanding completely. “Alright. A mighty fine car it is, too. Well, if you change yer mind, just follow the sound of the drill. You can’t miss it.”

Fili gives a half-smile, feeling worse for the refusal. He stays put and builds away, but the loud screeching sounds coming from the hallway don’t let him forget.

He wishes he’d said yes.

Especially when his mom comes out of her room and ends up assisting Mr. Dwalin herself.

It’d be fun, he thinks, to do the project with the two of them. Something in him opens up a small pocket of longing at the thought.

Yet another part of him douses that tiny feeling with guilt.

 

***

 

Three weeks later Fili trudges home from school, backpack slung on the very edge of his shoulder and eyes downcast. The sun is high and warm, the air nigh breaking under the strain of coming summer. It’s Friday; Fili should be full of cheer that it’s weekend and there are only two weeks of school left to go, but he can’t muster much excitement these days.

The same worry’s been clinging to his stomach for several weeks and he can’t seem to get rid of it – it only grows. Mama’s seemed happier since that dinner with Mr. Dwalin and since then, there’d also been a trip to the movies and to a concert in the city center. Now her eyes shine brighter on the regular and her smile is wider than ever; she sings more often as she works, too. It’s old songs Fili remembers from when he was very little and their da was still around - the sound of her voice brightens up each day yet on the other hand, inexplicably, it also makes Fili sad.

And behind the sad is this odd, burning, heavy feeling of upset. It makes Fili’s hands clench in fists, it makes his teeth grind but he can’t quite put what or who he’s angry at – or afraid of – into words. He doesn’t like it but he can’t get rid of it either and it makes him mad and scared because it’s new and he’s not sure he can control it.

Today it’s worse than ever, it seems. Fili gets within sight of their home and pauses, then takes a deep breath and steels his shoulders, taking one reluctant step after another.

Mama will not be happy when she hears.

And yet Fili, who normally would be only sorry for what had happened, also feels strangely defiant.

He shuffles up the walkway, up the steps and in through the door, ready to face the inevitable.

Kili’s playing on the kitchen floor, his valiant knight figure attacking a potato while their mom makes lemonade at the counter. Fili’s mouth waters at the sight of the ice floating up to the top of the glass jug, bumping into slices of lemon along the way; then both his brother and mother turn to greet him and his mouth turns dry instead, nervousness making his heart pick up speed.

His mom’s smile wavers as she catches something unexpected in his expression. Her voice is cheerful though, as always – she is vibrantly happy to see him no matter how busy her day’s been and he loves that, loves that feeling of her looking forward to seeing him come home.

“How was school, darling?” she asks.

“It was… okay.” He drops the backpack on a chair and then decides he just wants to get it over with. He unzips the big pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, the corners of which are slightly bent. “I got a note from my teacher for you.”

Her eyebrows rise. “From Mr. Faramir? About what, Fili?”

He hands it to her and she wipes her hands on her embroidered skirt before taking it, skimming the words. Her eyebrows draw together and Fili braces himself. She doesn’t raise her voice often but the possibility makes him cringe in advance.

When she looks up, there’s mostly incomprehension in her face. “You pushed another boy?” she asks, sounding astonished. “Why?”

Kili’s knight takes a break from the potato fight, staring up at his brother. “Did you get in trouble, Fee?”

Fili shrugs, his jaw set; an answer that’s meant to cover both of their questions.

That’s when his mother’s face gets stern and she straightens up. “You either explain it to me, Fili, or I will go speak to Mr. Faramir myself, but I will not be very happy if I have to do that.”

He lowers his gaze, swallows hard. “I… I pushed him because he and his friends were – they were laughing at me.”

“Laughing at you?” she says, startled. “Why were they laughing at you?”

“Because –“ He pauses, then mumbles as quickly as he can, “because my shoe has a big hole in it.”

She tilts her head. “Because what, Fili? I didn’t catch that.”

“Because my shoe came apart!” he says, louder than he planned, angry and embarrassed. He wishes Kili wouldn’t stare at him or his sneakers, craning his little neck.

“Your – shoe?” Mrs. Durin looks astonished. “The – the pair we bought just this spring?”

Fili nods.

She comes around the table, crouching down. Fili’s face colors; he’d taped the hole with some clear tape after the whole incident but that of course had only brought more snickers from the other boys. He waits while she surveys the result.

“Oh Fili,” she sighs, straightening up. “I’m sorry, love. That had to be frustrating.”

He shrugs again, mostly because there’s too many confusing things going on inside him and he’s not sure it’s okay to voice any of them.

“Did it just happen like that?”

“There was a small hole before,” Fili admits.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have fixed it,” she says, kindly.

“I kind of forgot…” He looks away; lying doesn’t come easy.

She studies him; he can feel her eyes on his face and she can probably read him no matter how evasive he tries to be. Kili crawls over to see the shoe and says: “That looks weird, Fili.”

“Never you mind,” Fili glares at him and Kili looks injured by the sudden, though tiny, reproach from his older brother.

That only adds to that awful feeling inside Fili’s chest.

Mrs. Durin takes a deep breath and then lets it out in a long exhale. “There’s no need to be unkind to Kili,” she admonishes, gently. When Fili fails to meet her eye, she adds: “Fili, look at me.”

He obeys, reluctantly.

“Listen, dear. I understand why you got angry with the other boys, but please try not to push anyone. It doesn’t solve anything, and now it is you who got in trouble with Mr. Faramir.”

Fili hangs his head. “I’m sorry-“

She reaches out and lifts his chin. “And I’m sorry I didn’t notice your shoe was not in a good shape. I guess I still thought they’re a new pair and will last you through the summer, but they must not have been well made to fall apart so quickly.” She huffs and then smiles at him. “Nothing for it, then: I guess we’ll be heading out to get Fili a new pair of shoes. We can’t have you going around like that, can we?”

Fili smiles, some of the shame lifting in the face of her calm reaction, in the prospect of a solution.

Kili jumps up from the floor so fast he bumps his shoulder on the table. “Can I get a new pair too?”

“Not just now, Kili. Yours are still just fine, dear.”

“Oh,” Kili looks disappointed. “Can I bring my knight to the shop?”

“Yes, but no attacking anyone or anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Kili agrees, smiling his gap-toothed grin. “My knight can guard us! Nothing bad will happen to us on our quest!”

“My thanks to the valiant knight for his protection,” Mrs. Durin mimics a bow and then, after a drink of lemonade, ushers them out of the door into the warm afternoon.

 

 

It takes three shops before they find a good pair of shoes: by then both the knight and Kili are impatient with the adventure. Fili is trying on a third pair in the last shop; he likes this one the best but it’s also the priciest and he’s not sure he can ask for it.

“Kili, please don’t run!” Mrs. Durin calls out when Kili forgets himself and dashes through the aisles of the shoe store, earning himself a stern look from the shop clerk.

“Momma! Look what I found!” Kili’s knight is perched across the toes of a pair of dark brown boots that have big buckles and their top and sides is adorned with a geometric pattern in blue and black. “Don’t they look like a proper knight’s fighting boots, momma? Can I have them? Please?”

Mrs. Durin looks up from checking how much room to grow Fili has in the shoes. “They’re a very nice pair,” she says. She takes one of the boots and examines it. “They look well made, too, Kili – but I’m afraid right now is not a good time.”

His face falls, but then it brightens up again. “Maybe for my birthday? Can I get them for my birthday? I want to be a real knight! With a sword and a shield!” Then he frowns. “When’s my birthday again?”

“In three weeks, Kili,” Mrs. Durin smiles. “We’ll have to see, okay?”

Kili looks wistfully at the pair and then dashes just as fast to put them back, the clerk now positively glowering.

“Which pair do you like the best?” Mrs. Durin asks Fili as she surveys the selection thoughtfully. He hesitates before pointing at the shoes he’s trying on right now. “But the other ones are fine too,” he adds quickly. “I don’t mind any of them.”

“I like these ones the best too,” she says, nodding. Then she smiles up at him. “Do you want to keep them on?”

He grins. “Yeah!”

“Okay, I’ll go pay and you keep an eye on your brother, will you?”

Fili, old shoes tucked underneath his arm, finds Kili still staring at the boots. “Aren’t they cool?” he exclaims, brown eyes big and excited. “I really hope I get them! How long is three weeks, Fee?”

“Twenty-one days,” Fili answers.

“That’s such a long time!” Kili groans.

Fili chuckles, and for now that balled-up awful feeling inside him recedes. “I hope we have chocolate cake again on your birthday.”

“With icing!”

“And sprinkles.”

“And a big number 6!”

Mrs. Durin walks up to them from the register, tucking away the receipt. “Alright, you two,” she says. “Let’s go and give the poor shop clerk some peace. We still have to stop by for some food on the way.”

 

 

They each get a pretzel from the stand on the street corner and then go to the grocery store. Kili’s afraid it will take long but they only buy a few things: a slice of ham, milk, apples, flour. When they get home, they have potato and leek soup, with small pink cubes of ham in it; Fili can’t stop glancing at his new shoes by the door and Kili begs for a piece of paper so he can draw a knight with the boots he’d seen in the store. Mrs. Durin smiles but she looks a bit troubled as she watches him attempt the depiction.

The next day, they have potato-leek soup again, and this time, there’s no ham, just an egg and fried cubes of bread.

The third day it’s just the soup, with nothing added in.

 

 

Mr. Dwalin takes their mom to another dinner that Saturday but they are home before Mr. Balin has put the boys to bed. After Fili and Kili get tucked in by their mom, Kili drifts off quickly; Fili sneaks a book into his bed and turns on his little lamp to finish a chapter. From the kitchen, he can hear all three adults chat and laugh; then the front door bangs and footsteps lead away from the porch. Fili expects quiet now but then he hear’s Mr. Dwalin speak once more. He frowns: it must have been just Mr. Balin going home, then, and his brother is staying till later…

He tries to stay awake to hear Mr. Dwalin’s heavy steps on the porch as well, signifying his departure. He wills his heavy eyes to stay open, jerking upright when his head slides down his pillow, but he doesn’t even realize it when sleep takes over with finality. Suddenly it’s morning and he wakes up with the book closed on top of his dresser and the lamp turned off. He doesn’t remember doing either.

The house is quiet at first and then he hears voices in the kitchen again.

He catapults out of bed, ignoring Kili’s drowsy mumble from under the mop of dark brown hair spread over his pillow. He only slows down in the hallway -

Mr. Dwalin is in the kitchen, pouring pancake batter onto a hot pan while their mom pours coffee and orange juice at the table.

“Hey, little lion,” she says when she spots Fili coming in. He rubs his eyes, morose, uncertain.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, manners and reluctance battling it over in his head as he watches the tall man grab the spatula and guard the little yellow circle on the pan which is starting to bubble and darken around the edges. Mr. Dwalin turns around. “Hey, Fili. Yer mom says you two like pancakes for breakfast. This one will be ready in a minute, fancy some marmalade with it?”

Fili wants to refuse but then he nods, unable to resist the gently sweet aroma wafting around and the pull to be courteous. “Sure.”

Mr. Dwalin doesn’t let anything show at how miserable that little word sounds and a minute later Fili is clutching a plate with a rolled up, lightly sugared pancake filled with orange-marmelade filling inside. He sits down just as Kili rushes, lighting up when he sees that the visitor from last night is still there. Fili bites his lip and stuffs his mouth with the pancake.

When all the batter had been used, Mr. Dwalin sits down to eat his share – a large share – and to sip his coffee. Kili, without asking, climbs onto his lap and shows him the drawings he’d made of the knight with big brown boots. Fili eats his pancakes in silence, that strange ache inside him filling all of his chest and creeping into his every thought.

 

 

That Saturday Mr. Dwalin stays till lunch, not fixing anything around the house, just visiting. He does go out to the nearest shop for fresh bread and sausages, bringing the boys back a chocolate treat: Kili devours his immediately while Fili says “thanks” and then takes it to his room, setting it on a shelf. They eat lunch and then Mr. Dwalin leaves, kissing Fili’s and Kili’s mom on the lips this time. Kili squeals and clamps a hand over his mouth.

Fili has the urge to step on his foot again but he stops himself. It's not Kili's fault that Fili's angry, and Fili doesn't want to be more angry with himself than he already is.

 

 

The least two weeks of school are strange: with less schoolwork and homework to complete, Fili finds himself with a lot of free time in the afternoons, playing outside with Kili and running around the neighborhood. But they also spend more time at Mr. Balin’s: reading, learning to play chess, eating pastries and cheese and drinking fruit punch. Their momma seems to be going against her own rule for them not to bother their elderly neighbor too often, but it’s probably because over the last bunch of days, she’s hardly lifted her head from over the sewing machine, starting as Fili goes off to school and still at it when he comes back; she takes a quick break to hear about his day and give him a snack and going back to it. In the evenings, after reading to them from a storybook, she slides back in her creaky chair and the machine rattles on, a strange sort of lullaby to carry them off to sleep.

Fili wonders if she just has a lot of extra orders, or if she has somehow fallen behind schedule. She doesn’t work as much these days, though uncle Thorin did call over a week ago, saying that he wasn’t able to come visit after all. There had been less work than he’d hoped and he has to stay to try and get extra hours.

Kili counts down the days to his birthday; there’s a chart on the fridge with neatly listed numbers Fili had written out for him, and every day as soon as he opens his eyes Kili crosses off another day with a bounce and a squeal of anticipation. He is going to be six. Another of his teeth has started to wobble; this time it’s one of the top ones.

And then Fili gets his report card and goes home and they have ice cream to celebrate; Mr. Dwalin comes over and congratulates Fili on hard work paying off in good marks. He pats Fili on the shoulder and for a moment Fili closes his eyes because it’s what he’d always imagine his dad would do at an occasion like this and though Dwalin is not his dad, it still feels good.

It’s confusing and Fili is torn between pleased and frustrated and in the end, he just nods again, lips tight and eyebrows drawn and a pit of guilt deepening under his stomach.

His mother gives him a pondering look but doesn’t say anything, just smiles softly and serves cookies that make them all melt like butter on a hot pan.

 

 

Summer opens in front of Fili like a new journal, pages untouched and ready to be filled with tales of adventures extraordinaire. He imagines climbing trees, sitting under their shade eating apples and candy, running around with Kili until they are breathless and their feet ache. He pictures them doing impromptu picnics on the living room floor and in the backyard or maybe even at the park; he’s old enough to take Kili there by himself now. He hopes he might have a chance to read a few more of Mr. Balin’s books, too; Mr. Balin had just returned Fili’s book to him with words of praise about how well it was written and what interesting stories it contained.

Fili wishes he possessed a few more books which could possibly interest the older man.

But as summer starts and there are only seven, then six, and then five days till Kili’s birthday, a different sort of mood spreads in the house than Fili’d expect. At least Kili doesn’t notice; he is exuberant and oblivious in his complete thrill over the upcoming occasion. Fili, on the other side, can tell that their momma is trying her hardest to match the cheer and more often then not she fails these days. Her smile is sad and that spark Fili had grown accustomed to – though he doesn’t always like the reason for it being there – grows dimmer once more. It’s not that Mr. Dwalin has stopped visiting or that he’d suddenly turn less kind or attentive; not at all. Their momma just seems tired, and sad, and on the edge of – well – despair.

Fili doesn’t know what has caused it and yet he is afraid to ask.

Until the day before Kili’s birthday, when momma comes back from dropping of an order, leaving the boys in the care of their neighbor. She looks odd when Fili sees her again, standing in the doorway of Mr. Balin’s house. Kili runs into her arms, trilling something about how he won three rounds of Sorry and it must be because he’s going to be six tomorrow. He’d mentioned his birthday somewhere around one hundred times today, based on Fili’s wild guess; every plant in Mr. Balin’s house probably knows about it now.

Momma smiles at the shining bright eyes but the usual joy isn’t there. She looks defeated and it scares Fili, more than anything else.

When Kili finally succumbs to sleep that night in spite of his anticipation reaching stratospheric height, Fili sneaks out of bed, creeping into their momma’s bedroom on silent bare feet. She’s alone; Mr. Dwalin has stayed overnight two or three more times since that first night, but he is not here today. Absent also is the sound of sewing – the room is quiet, calm. Fili peeks in and spies his mother by the bed as she ties a ribbon around a present. She startles when Fili knocks on the door, then smiles.

“Why are you out of bed, little lion?” she says, inclining her head. Her dark hair reflects the lamp’s light; it’s stained orange and yellow and it looks soft. Fili likes the way it always smells like flowers when she hugs him or tucks him in; like a blooming garden and sunshine and safety. He wants to bury his face in her neck and hear that everything is alright.

“I’m just,” he says hesitantly, not sure how to proceed. “I just thought… is something wrong?”

“Like what, baby?” she says, reaching out for him and ruffling his hair.

“You looked unhappy earlier. I hope… I hope it’s not because of me…” he finally manages to say, looking down at the tips of his toes that stick out of his long pajama pants.

“You?” she says. “Well, I’ve been worried about you a little, but it’s not… I’m not unhappy, Fili-bean. I’m…”

She heaves a great sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed, pulling him down to sit next to her.

“I went today to get those boots Kili wanted,” she says. “He’s been talking about them so much and I finally had enough money – after I turned in the order today - to go buy them. But they didn’t have his size anymore. The ones they had were way too small for him, and all the other sizes were gone.”

“Oh.” Though he’s relieved not to be the cause of the sadness in her eyes, Fili’s heart sinks a little regardless. Just imagining Kili’s disappointment – he’d been obsessed with the boots since seeing them – is a painful exercise. Fili can picture his falling face, the lack of understanding when he realizes they are not among his presents.

Mrs. Durin can read Fili’s face, guessing at his thoughts. She smiles. “I bought him a set of toys instead. It’s not going to be what he wanted the most… so he might be a little sad. But I didn’t have time to go all the way across town to other shops before closing, and-“ She puts a hand around Fili’s shoulder, squeezing him and kissing him in his hair. “Don’t worry, though, Fili. There’ll be chocolate cake and a few little gifts – and I suppose Kili will understand in the end.”

Fili’s not so sure that will be the case.

But as they sit there for a while in shared silence, he hopes momma is right.

She walks him back to his room later, tucking him in once more and standing over both their beds, lingering. “He’s a precious little thing, your brother,” she says thoughtfully. “Wears his heart on his sleeve, never hiding how he feels… always jumping into everything headfirst.” She touches Kili’s cheek, its round shape hinting at babyhood not too long ago left behind; she leans over and kisses his nose before straightening up. “But you, Fili-beans – I have a feeling you don’t always tell me what worries you, and that worries me in turn. You can tell me if something is troubling you. Don’t just hide it inside and grapple with it alone, okay?”

Fili’s throat is suddenly full of a burning-hot gulping feeling. He nods and pushes it down with difficulty. “Okay, mom.”

She kisses his cheek too, her hair spilling across his face and he smiles under the dark ticklish veil.

He thinks of telling her what weighs him, how he’s afraid of how things would change if she marries Mr. Dwalin.

But he just drinks in the comfort of her closeness instead.

She lets go and leaves then, leaving only a small nightlight on by the door. As he drifts off, he hears her speaking on the phone in her room. He can’t make out any words, but it sounds like she might be crying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
